Round 332

The chamber's air shifted, thick with decay and ozone. The walls flexed inwards, breathing rhythmically around them. Below, the stairs beckoned with the promise of deeper darkness and worse horrors—though that seemed a distant threat compared to the creature gripping her wrist.

Its skin felt wrong against hers, cold despite the heat radiating from its form. The symbols etched across its body pulsed with inner light, each mark seeming to trace a path of agony through her nerves. She tried to wrench free but the grip held firm, iron-clad and unyielding.

The electricity crackled between them, arcing across her skin in painful trails that left no visible mark but burned nonetheless. Her muscles screamed for release as she fought against the impossible strength holding her in place. The corruption seeped into her through the contact, a foul taste spreading across her tongue despite having swallowed no liquid.

She focused on breathing—the one thing still under her control—as the seconds stretched into eternity. Then, with a desperate cry torn from her throat, she threw herself forward and downwards, breaking free of the creature's grasp and stumbling towards the stairs.

The darkness swallowed her whole as she plummeted into the depths below, leaving behind the stench of decay and the lingering burn of corrupted electricity across her skin.